


Silver Locket

by sailingthestars



Category: Black Sails
Genre: F/M, Feminist Themes, Original Character(s), Pirates, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-27 02:11:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6265510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailingthestars/pseuds/sailingthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lila is a merchant in Nassau, who would prefer not to go back to the way England was, she wants to keep her power and freedom. She has suffered under tyrants before, and she not only wants revenge for her suffering, but also for the people she has lost. She has power in Nassau to rival anyone, and so John Silver sees in her the perfect opportunity to carry out a plan which will strengthen his and Flint's chances of retaking Nassau.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

She had heard about him.

The long dark hair and the piercing blue eyes should have been warning enough, the leg, or lack thereof was simply confirmation.

John Silver.

They had talked about the look on his face as he crushed the skull of a man who was once his comrade. His stony face as he pulled out his makeshift metal foot, before, snarling, planting it firmly amongst the man's brains again.

Nobody was particularly upset over the man's loss; he had been a coward at best, and a traitor at worst. He was one of the first to accept a pardon, at Hornigold's side, as they sold Nassau to men who felt we owed them fealty. Pathetic. The rest of us may have accepted the pardons, but we waited until it was necessary, until any other alternative was bleak, to say the least. They jumped at the chance.

Lila had never been a fan of Hornigold, that was true, although that had been more of an issue of pride than anything else; he had refused to buy her wares, purely because she was unashamed of her position in political matters, and in matters of piracy. Most recently the issue had been her alliance with Eleanor Guthrie, who she was now unashamed to say she missed, as a friend, and as, to her mind, what was Nassau's best chance at a decent future, or she was until recent changes of alliance. However the issue went much further back than that; her wares were the best; half were the goods she and her crew, or crews who she considered allies, had 'repossessed'; the goods which could be sold to pirates and therefore need not go through Eleanor. The other half were the things her and her crew had made; they were a crew joined not only in friendship and respect, but also in skill - they were bakers, blacksmiths, harbour-masters, and more; all had left behind a society which refused to accept or acknowledge their gifts, for the freedom of Nassau. She loved her crew, and they loved her. She had come here with nothing but a father who left the navy, and a love of crafting small and beautiful things, after the loss of her father, her crew were what made Nassau home. After the loss of her father it was Hornigold who took his place as captain, who threw her from the ship, for fear that she would be competition. It was Hornigold who shot down one of her vessels, killing several friends, from his fort, because he could, and because she was unafraid of him. He stole from her store, and undermined her organisation, and now he had brought back England who taxed them, enslaved them, and called her a woman before a merchant.

So hearing of the death of his lackey hadn't exactly filled her with grief. Usually she would have celebrated; however she remembered meeting him, the dead man, back when he was an accountant to Captain Flint. Flint was a man who she had heard mixed things about, and whose crew she had little to do with; they went after prizes too large to be of use to her enterprise. However she had bumped into the floppy haired bespectacled man, flustered about the state of the accounts, and she couldn't remember ever having seen somebody look so lost, so out of place. He seemed harmless. She suspected that this feeling of not fitting in may have been what motivated the change that led him here, and she couldn't help but empathise a little, pity him a little. He had bought a small gold ship pin from her, simply out of gratitude for her having been nice to him. It seemed the lack of kindness he was shown had only worsened since. 

Seeing his killer wandering freely around Nassau again was enough to leave her with distinctly mixed feelings - she supported the aim; the return of piracy, and freedom to Nassau, but there was a little fear at the back of her mind as well; the voice that whispered _'Who dies next?..."_

She had a thousand questions about his character; what should she think of this man who had been quiet, passing unnoticed, having suddenly turned to a different way of doing things? Should he be an ally? Or was he a time-bomb? An explosively unpredictable mix of subtlety and pure, unadulterated cruelty? 

He didn't look like a monster, not like the ones she had witnessed, befriended over the years. She watched him with new curiosity, determined to figure out the puzzle before her.

He walked with an uncertain urgency; as if full of intent, but not so sure if he wanted to do that which he had been drawn into - he was always looking about him. It reminded her of an animal surrounded, looking for escape, worrying, nervous, _trapped_. Such things were once a common sight for her; her father had a persistent interest in studying the wildlife of this new world, a curiosity which he could only justify to the crew if he sold the animals for profit. She had hated it, and always pity the beautiful creatures, so once she tried to free a bird from it's cage, and allow it to escape. It did, clawing her with a violence unlike anything she had ever seen on its way out, and what was beautiful became a nightmare that terrified her for years to come. A trapped thing is prone to lash out. The directness of his walk told her one thing; he knew that no matter what he had only one path and he would follow it, perhaps it was this acceptance that led him to embrace darkness. Perhaps he had made the cage his home.

She looked at him harder, as he walked along the beach, eyes focused on a point always just ahead of him, as if he could not truly see anything which was in front of him. He was consumed by his own thoughts, she could see them eating away at the inside of him, leaving him looking isolated as he walked through the crowds of people. She had seen so many pirates through the years she recognised the types better than the men. Most were insignificant.

This 'Silver', however, was another man who didn't quite make sense. Another misfit it seemed. This allowed her to predict his next action, and so prepare accordingly. Every man like him, the different ones, found their way to her store. Standing at the window, she had seen his gaze shift in her direction a few times, and she suspected she was his destination. So calmly, she put on the mask of indifference, as she took a seat at the table and began to read. The door creaked open, and the tap of his peg on the wooden floor meant she didn't need to look up from her book to look at him, until he was stood directly in front of her. Undeterred by thoughts of what that peg had done, she lifted her gaze to firmly meet his eyes,  and she smiled as she asked "How can I help you?"

He held out a bruised and stained hand, which she shook - it was warm and steady in hers, as he began;

"Hello, my name's John Silver, and I think the real question is; how can we help each other..." and with half of his mouth in a charming smile, and his eyebrows raised persuasively, she began to understand for the first time that his peg wasn't half as dangerous to his charisma.

Her heart was already racing.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Silver meets Lila Mitchell, and pitches the deal

He had often walked past the decaying wooden shack during his time in Nassau, built from the rubble of abandoned or wrecked vessels, with its creaky sign painted with blue statements, and found himself intrigued. Whilst everything about the shop seemed to him rather an unappealing concept, there was always that one beautiful contradiction that made him look again; not any of the goods or trinkets, none of the stolen treasures, and not the surprising craftsmanship of the items sold.

It was the woman who stood above it all, over a counter stuffed with forgotten relics, crafted replicas, and pretty concepts, it was her looking past all these out over the sand, and onto the bay, watching. She always had this look like she was waiting for someone, glancing at every face and looking away, discarding it as insignificant, and continuing watching. It was one of those looks that made him wonder; he loved to create stories, as idle entertainment, and hers was one he had imagined  a million times. How it may be that a beautiful and educated might end up in Nassau, without a known father or husband to support her, where she had been, things she had seen, to give her that knowing look that suggested she knew all that we were yet to discover. Who she might be looking for…

Of course some of the gaps had been filled in for him; he had not needed to ask to be told about her, people talked about her almost as much as the Guthrie woman. They spoke of the two women on similar terms, and it was considered that we were all fortunate that they were friends, or at least clear allies, or else Nassau may be destroyed by such powers opposing. Many were surprised that it was Max and not Miss Mitchell who took the place of Eleanor after she was, well, otherwise occupied with the new governor. At first he was confused by these kinds of statements, by the fear and respect that followed her, he could not see how her decrepit ‘store’, or her rather small ship, could inspire such feelings. When compared to the visible power and property that Eleanor Guthrie possessed it was hard to imagine them being allied, let alone rivals; Miss Mitchell would seem to have the inferior position.

However when he had listened a little harder he heard things; of the strange prizes her seemingly insignificant vessel brought back, of the endless list of allies she had in a way Miss Guthrie did not; through friendships formed in every aspect of their society, and the way that only friends of hers stayed in power for long. Not only was she genuinely liked by most, she never seemed to have to exert any of her power in the interests of rising, and therefore had very few enemies. This lack of desire to better her position made him wonder if perhaps this was because she already had the best position on the island, perhaps she already ruled the island, but nobody had yet noticed…

This made her very much an ally he wanted; when Silver thought of how he had risen to his current status and how she had risen to hers, he could not help but feel a certain similarity between them. However it was quite possible that she had done a far better job than he had, or at least had more time and was therefore more successful.

He was impressed by her, and he would not deny it. Her name furthermore seemed to demand all the more respect perhaps because it stood alone. Unlike most women on Nassau her name was spoken free of any man or lover associated with it, and it made her all the more stable. It was sad but true that when a woman was spoken of as somebody’s lover many of the men failed to see more than her sex.

In all the stories he made up for her life these were the aspects he most desired the answers on; the loneliness, and the searching eyes. Those eyes. They had captivated his curiosity.

For all she saw, and all she watched, he was fairly certain that she had never seen him watching. He had been careful of that, for fear of seeming untoward; and so that her behaviour would not change under observation. He liked to understand power, and those who held it, as it really was. He was confirmed in believing his own anonymity, at least when it came to watching her, when he entered her store, and she showed only the recognition of a name and a face seen in passing.

He had however noticed her eyes widen very slightly, as she pretended to be engrossed in reading a book of one sort or another, and he was painfully aware of the sound his peg made on the wooden floors as he approached her. By now she would have heard the stories, the stories of what he did to Dufrense, he considered that she might even be afraid of him. The idea of what people may now feel when they hear his name was strange; almost exhilarating, and yet made him feel somehow wrong; this was not who he was when he came here.

He stopped in front of the desk, and she waited, feigning indifference, just long enough to make him unsure of himself, whether he should do something, say something, and feeling deeply self-conscious. She looked up and met his eyes directly, unflinching, and smiled widely, as if he were her oldest friend, and she had missed him terribly – but he needed only watch her eyes to tell she was also somewhat unsure of the situation. "How can I help you?" She asked with a put on brightness.

Smiling with a confidence which usually came easier, he held out a bruised and stained hand, which she shook –her hand was cold in his. He had to dismiss the urge to try to warm it up by wrapping both hands around hers, strangely concerned about this minor detail, as he began;

"Hello, my name's John Silver, and I think the real question is how we can help each other; you see I have a proposal which could benefit us both greatly” he said earnestly, pausing for effect, and because he felt his voice was trying to shake. Composing himself with a new smile he pitched his idea “now, I am sure you are aware of what my allies and I are trying to achieve here, and I think perhaps your aims may just align with ours…”

“Oh yes?” She said with a smile and eyes that seemed to be laughing with him, and leaning in over the table, hands were resting close to hers, a fact he was trying not to focus on, despite a constant awareness screaming in the back of his mind. He could feel her warm breath mixing with his as he continued, grinning;

“Oh yes…” as he moved away he could have sworn she sighed a little, he walked to a map on the wall of the Caribbean, and pointing to three different spots, a cave, an island, and one spot in the middle of the ocean “These three locations contain everything we need to take back Nassau; treasure, men, and a warship, however when we began this mission we expected to have rather more men than we do currently, but with your crew, their skills and your power, we would have a better than good chance”

“You realise I command a small crew? And run a small shop? What great power do you suppose I possess?” she was smiling, at him, and he wasn’t sure she knew it,

“Don’t play games with me, I have spent my life detecting where power lies, and here on this island, I didn’t see it at first, but a large amount of it lies in the hands of you and your small skilled crew. You bring back prizes to rival those of the greatest pirates on the island, rarities nobody else can find, and you still keep yourself from notoriety. You think nobody notices your position? You’re right, except, I have seen it, and oh how clear it seems now” his voice had become breathier, he found himself leaning in again, he was smiling and this time he hardly noticed “I don’t know how you do it but your friends are everywhere, your allies protect and empower you, you control this whole damn show”

“Perhaps if I chose to” she smiled coyly; she didn’t know what to make of this man; but she was impressed at his observations, and raising her eyebrows she challenged him “But what would you offer us that England does not? We have our pardons, and I make more money now than ever with the soldiers here as well”

“It’s simple, there are two reasons; first, join us and you’ll make more than ever with your share in the prizes we take, and when Nassau rises stronger than before, and England will never let a woman in your position keep her power when it returns in force”  

She nodded, “I see your point, but what’s the second reason?”

He smiled even wider now, looking her dead in the eyes  “We understand you; with us you will have freedom, true freedom, and above all, you will have _fun_ , don’t be an animal in a cage; a pirate is far too wild for that”

It was her who stepped away now from his breath on her, his warm gaze on her, unshifting even now; “I’ll think about it, now go”

“We will go, tonight from this island, be there with your crew, or remain England’s slave” pushing off from the desk, he sauntered out the creaking door.

For the first time since he was crippled, he hadn’t noticed the pain in his leg. 


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lila thinks over the momentous decision she has to make before nightfall.

Today had started off so normal, Lila thought to herself. More normal, for Nassau, than it had been since England moved in; stories of a brutal murder had travelled faster than ever before, it was a strange mixture of anticipation and relief in people’s voices as they shared the news. Usually this kind of thing was hardly rare, it was a pirate haven after all, and almost to be expected. With everything so radically different all of a sudden it was almost pleasant to hear that at least somebody wasn’t going to change for England. It was the first interesting move anybody had made, and she couldn’t wait to see what the occupation would do about it.

The action was normal in the sense that it was true to piracy. It was dangerous, and dark, and threatening, and for that very reason it gave her hope that they couldn’t keep this image of peace and control up for long. If it wasn’t Spain, it would be Vane, and if it wasn’t Vane it would be Flint, and if it wasn’t Flint, soon or later, it would be every criminal populating this island, right under their pompous noses.

She loved the concept…but the man…now that was more interesting. She had no idea what to think of this suggestion of his. She had no idea what to make of him. At first, when he sauntered in, she had been able to remain calm, but after he had left she had found herself shaking, her heart racing. She told herself it was because he was a murderer, and she had just heard about the brutal murder. That must be it. It would be perfectly natural for her to fear him, he was unpredictable, violent, deadly; he had killed a man for opening his mouth.

She couldn’t make sense of it though – she had worked and lived here for years, she had met and worked with every deadly psychopath going, what would be new or worse about this one? He didn’t even seem insane, or psychopathic; he seemed intelligent, likeable, a little abrupt perhaps…but nothing that she should fear. So why couldn’t she stop feeling this adrenaline rushing through her veins?

Maybe it was a gut feeling, some kind of warning. Maybe she should steer clear. She had her pardon, her safety, her business thriving, she was in an excellent position; she could work with Eleanor, stay on Englands good side. She had no good reason whatsoever to accept this offer, to endanger herself, her crew, it would be illogical, stupid. She had to say _no_ …and yet…he had struck a chord with her.

They were pirates, when they were being completely honest with themselves, and they had _all_ left England, Europe, behind for a reason. They made them their victims for a reason. These places had betrayed them at every turn, it exploited them, enslaved them. Were they going to let them do it again all for so small a temptation as safety? Security? Since when had that bothered them?

It would be so… _fun._

There it was…the temptation again.

She was being naïve, she thought. This couldn’t end well for them, and when everything went south it would bring out the worst in everyone, no matter how charming, or how friendly they seemed. It wasn’t just Silver, it was Flint as well, his captain. Having a lot of friends meant she heard everything; from what she heard Flint betrayed his own crew on a regular basis, so why wouldn’t he betray hers?

A charming smile wouldn’t be enough to protect her, even if it was from the quartermaster; if the captain chose to betray them, he would.

Her head was spinning. She couldn’t make a decision. She could feel every minute passing. She just wanted time to stop, for the world to stop spinning a moment, and allow her to think. No deal had ever left her so confused before now. She felt so unsure, unsteady, unprotected. She felt terrified. She felt immensely vulnerable, and in Nassau that meant being open to attack.

What was it about this man?

Clearing her mind she took it back to basics; pros and cons. Cons first; loss of security, safety, protection by the law, business, she would be hunted…again, or she could thrive; she had been speaking to the governor, Eleanor, making connections. She didn’t want to fight Eleanor. They had been friends for years. Max too. This governor didn’t seem too bad as well, and she had been all for Flint’s plan which was almost exactly this…but Vane was her friend too. Anne. Jack. How good could the governor be when he was holding Jack ransom, using him in a trade. She didn’t know Flint’s crew though…but in a strange way she already trusted them more than England; pirates were direct, typically predictable, and had far less of a habit of treating people as disposable pawns. So then there were the Pros; freedom, doing what they were good at, getting back at England, prizes, revenge on Hornigold, _fun,_ so much, _fun._ She was grinning, and the second she realised she quickly snapped herself back out of it, shaking her head.

She didn’t feel confident making this decision for her crew, it was huge; cutting herself off from her home here for now. From stability. It would endanger everybody.

So there was only one thing to be done; she would call a vote immediately.

She picked up her jacket, and stepped out onto the white sand, locking the door and window behind her, leaving the usual threat on the door, in case anybody thought that the law’s restrictions made her any less of a fearsome enemy to steal from. She walked with strong sense of direction, gathering her crew members as she saw them, smiling as she approached each of her friends and as she threw her arms around them, whispering the message; “Get to the shop immediately, we need to have a vote. It may well be the most important choice any of us have made since we last chose to leave England behind us. Pass it on – nobody can miss it”

By the time she got back to the shop with the last of them it was an hour off nightfall, an hour until the decision would be final, and their lives would have changed for ever. They were all waiting for her, the air thick with anticipation as they went inside.

“So, what’s this all about?” her quartermaster, Luke, asked her, his brow furrowed and eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and apprehension, his hand on her shoulder. She met his worried gaze, and wished she could explain this to him alone. They had been like brother and sister their whole lives, and were similar in so many aspects they lost count. They could usually predict each other faultlessly, and shared the same thoughts on near any matter, they had even been known to fall for the same men, and laughed about it endlessly.

There was no laughter tonight though. On this rare occasion neither could predict quite what the other would say, and it scared them. Lila didn’t feel quite sure he would agree with her tonight. So she broke eye contact and looked across each member of her crew in turn, as she began the pitch she had heard herself just hours before.


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Silver waits for Lila's answer.

Admittedly, Silver was becoming a little anxious. Pacing the beach agitatedly, he was becoming angry with himself for his recklessness. He had recently developed an awful habit of placing all of his bets on a single scenario and hoping for the best, and with this woman he had done it again. Making more promises about things he simply couldn’t control the outcome of. He hadn’t particularly questioned his doing it at the time because, frankly, if he questioned any of his recent behaviour he’d be questioning himself entirely.

He always had a backup plan. He was rarely consistent; willing to betray anybody for his own gain, and changeable at a moment’s notice, when it suited him, but he was always consistent in having a plan to look out for himself. Recently, nothing of the sort had occurred.

Why had he only noticed it now?!

Finding himself more worked up than he had expected to be, he ran his hands through his hair, and he stopped pacing. He sat down. He breathed. Leaning back on his arms and legs stretched out before him he would seem, to a passer-by, the picture of relaxation as he watched the sun setting. This was exactly how he intended it to be.

He was of a mind that if you cannot be un-phased, make everybody truly believe you are, and they will never see your weakness. He believed you should always keep a safe and guarded distance from any particular bias, in any situation. However like any belief sometimes it was harder to agree with yourself than others.

Right now, as he waited on edge for a girl he barely knew, he felt he would do nothing of the past day differently; he found he believed in her.

At least, in her ability to come through; he saw her eyes glitter with that same feeling he felt, every time he ran off to sea. It was the irresistible temptation that had influenced every moment in the past years of his life; the allure of an unpredictable tomorrow. Nothing ever set. No limits that can’t be pushed, bent, broken. No guidelines to their freedom.

He knew she felt it.

He recognised many of his qualities in her, and it intrigued him; she was clearly smart, charming, and good at playing her own ends.  This was clear from her success and influence in Nassau, even now, with this new governor lording over it. However she clearly cared for the interests of her crew, something he certainly understood, yet he could not see how it may be weakness in him and strength in her. It was as if she had mastered the game.

It was her evident concern for their well-being which worried him now; even he knew that his plan was hardly air-tight, that even assuming that all three raids went perfectly, nothing was guaranteed. He didn’t know that temptation would be enough to make her risk her crew, herself, and their security. He would understand if she didn’t come.

This was the fuel of his anxiety, which had awoken perhaps an hour after he left her shop, in the most exceptional mood drop. He went straight from sauntering to this very spot. Here, where he would wait for Flint, Vane, and Anne to return with Jack, and the Urca gold, and here where he would wait for Lila and her crew.

His heartrate increased as he thought of the possible ways the next few minutes could pan out; visualising a million things, seeing her smile at him as she walked up the beach, or turning around and seeing her there…or explaining to Flint, to Madi, that he chose the wrong ally, and his half of the plan was a failure. He didn’t want to let them down.

With every minute that passed he didn’t know if he wished the sun would move slower, to give her more time, or to speed up, to vanish faster so that he might see her sooner. He hated to wait.

Standing, he surveyed the sea, and thought how beautiful a sight it was to see the sun set through a clear sky, set afire, as it plunged into the calm depths.

It was like this that Lila found him, peaceful, with a half-smile much like the one that had been directed at her earlier, but different. This she thought must be the real smile that hid behind the weapon of persuasion. It was so much more innocent, in not knowing it had an audience, almost boyish, relaxed and natural; it suggested a million daydreams yet to be realised.

She felt almost as if she were interrupting, somewhat unsure of herself, as she found she could hear her heart beat. It was Luke who cleared his throat, and she worried that perhaps she had been watching him a little longer than she meant to.

Both Lila and John shook off a vague feeling of embarrassment, of being caught off guard, and stepped towards one another.

“We had a vote” she began, smirking “We were unanimous on one fact; we want to be free, and we want England gone”

“Well” he grinned, not only with relief, but with actual happiness swelling in his tone, one which he had no desire to question, he felt certainty on this “I think we’ll make an excellent team”


End file.
